


January Joy

by ScribeAzari



Series: David the Wizard [4]
Category: Camp Camp (Web Series), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Camping, Crossover, Escape, Gen, Portkey, david as a wizard kid, unhappy home life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-16 15:19:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17552168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScribeAzari/pseuds/ScribeAzari
Summary: When investigating an odd rattle in his Grandad's old guitar case, David makes a discovery that changes his life for the better.





	January Joy

What was that rattling noise? For a while now, David had been noticing an odd sound when moving his guitar in its case, as though there was something caught in there. He’d checked to see if any of his busking money had gotten trapped somehow, more than once, but it never seemed to be the case.

He didn’t have as many opportunities to fiddle with his guitar now that school was back in session. This also meant worrying that his parents would sell it while he was gone despite the money he’d been earning through busking - after all, he couldn’t busk as often when he was in school, so the money was coming in much more slowly. That, and the Christmas mood that had drawn people to his carolling was gone.

He’d taken to keeping it under his bed, even though he knew that technically they could fish it out of there at any time. It _felt_ safer there, somehow. He stored a lot of the things he cared about most under there - though admittedly most of his keepsakes were actually stowed beneath a loose floorboard, unlike the guitar. There was no way _that_ was fitting under there.

One Saturday afternoon, once he’d done all the busking he could out in town, he sat for a while just fiddling with the case again. Perhaps a penny had slid past the lining of it somehow? If he was careful, he could just about shift it without damaging anything… The velvety, faded red interior shhffed softly as he lifted it out, his guitar laid carefully beside him.

Peering inside, he drew in a short breath. That wasn’t a penny. Instead of a stray bit of currency, there was what appeared to be a _key_ in there. One with a strange little compass thing attached to its keyring, too. Hurriedly, he grabbed it out, stuffing it into the mokeskin pouch Daniel had given him for Christmas and putting the case interior back where it belonged so he could put his guitar away properly.

What could the peculiar key be for? Undoubtedly it belonged to Grandad, considering whose guitar this had been, but what did it unlock? For that matter, why attach a compass to it? His mind buzzed, his new perplexing secret zipping around in his head, demanding attention. He couldn’t investigate it just yet, though, not with so many people around to see what he was doing. What if his parents took it from him?

It wasn’t until after their basic pasta dinner that he felt he had time to take a closer look at his find, fishing it out of his pouch once he was sat comfortably on his bed. The key was a dull goldish colour, with no identifying markings upon it - just a normal key, really. The compass thing, on the other hand, turned out to not be a compass at all.

There was no marking for North or South, let alone East or West, and the needle didn’t bear the usual red half that would have pointed the way. Instead, the only inscriptions read _Home_ and _Ingrates,_ while half of the otherwise metallic needle was painted the same soft sea green as David’s eyes.

Could this be how Grandad used to find his way home, before the Death Eaters burned it? His stomach lurched at the thought - but the more rational side of his mind soon kicked in. Grandad had lived in his old home for years - why would he need a compass to find it? Not to mention, the compass actually looked quite new. If it didn’t lead to Grandad’s old home, then, and it wasn’t spinning in the house, where was ‘Home’? For that matter, what kind of a direction was Ingrates?

With a mystery under his nose, and maybe a chance to connect with Grandad one last time, David grinned and pulled on an extra jumper and retrieved his shoes from under the radiator. It was cold out, and he didn’t want to freeze as he chased down his answers. Then, making sure he had both the new key and the spare house key he’d snagged last year, he opened his window and clambered out. His bedroom was on the ground floor, so there wasn’t a drop to concern himself with.

Partially sodden remains of snow and wilted plants crunched underfoot at his landing in the weed-infested garden. Was anyone looking? As twitchy as a squirrel, he checked the windows - no faces. Time to make his escape. Climbing the pile of slats waiting to be used on the roof, he was able to hurdle over the fence. Getting back in would be more of a hassle, but he knew his parents weren’t going to check on him in the meantime, so that remained a future David problem.

Glancing at the compass, his breath misting in front of him, he aligned the green point of the needle with Home and began to trudge crispily through the frost. There weren’t many people out and about, and it felt somehow both lonely and peaceful at the same time - more so as the compass began to lead him out of Barnton entirely. Instead of somewhere in town, it seemed as though Grandad had a secret beyond the suburbs.

How was he ever going to get there, wherever _there_ was? No matter how determined, he was just a kid, and he was alone out in the darkening evening. Maybe he’d have better luck tomorrow, if he started early? He might have to skip busking for it, but this was something of Grandad’s. It was worth the risk.

“Guess I’m going home, then.” He sighed, turning around - but no sooner had the words left his mouth than a sharp tug from his navel had stolen his breath. He squeaked, eyes wide in shock. The pressure was sudden and immense, squeezing his entire body kind of painfully, spinning him like laundry. Then, just as suddenly, he was hurled onto the soggy, snow and stick covered ground.

Groaning and dizzy, David needed a few moments to get his bearings - and avoid losing his dinner. When he was able to straighten up and get a good look at where he was, though, his eyes shone. Not five feet away, there was an honest to goodness campfire pit - and behind _that,_ there was a solidly built wooden _cabin._

Rushing over to the door with renewed energy, David tried the key in the lock, every tiny metal against metal sound making him fret that it wouldn’t fit. His worries were in vain - the door opened for him easily, and he stepped inside with a sense of reverence. Beaming as he shut the door behind him and wiped his feet on the doormat he found himself on, he drank in the sight of the cosy interior.

There was a soft, grassy green carpet underfoot, complementing the light brown of the walls nicely. Old pots, pans and tableware of various sorts had been stacked atop a pile of books and battered board games on a little coffee table in the corner. A pair of foldable chairs stood alongside it, each with a little note taped onto them.

Taking off his shoes to leave by the door, David wandered over, feeling as though he was walking on air. Both of the notes were, as it turned out, reminders to transfigure the chairs into armchairs so that they could both sit in comfort. Both… Grandad had meant to show him this place… His throat tight with emotion, he kept looking around, feeling almost as though his grandfather was standing there right beside him.

On the other side of the cabin, there was a proper bed, full mattress, sheets, duvet and pillows. Leaned up against the wall on the other side from it, out of the way, was what seemed to be a foldable camp bed, with another note for transfiguration taped to it. Grandad hadn’t just meant to _show_ him the cabin - he’d meant for them both to move in!

A giddiness bubbled up in him, and he couldn’t keep the smile off his face. “Thanks, Grandad…” He breathed, a little overwhelmed. Finally, he had somewhere to go where nobody was arguing. No raised voices, no guilt, just peace and quiet. How long had Grandad been preparing this for them? It didn’t seem _quite_ finished, from the notes, but it was clearly close.

To get a better look at the place, David began to turn on the lanterns that had been strung up, as there wasn’t much light coming in through the windows now. For good measure, he shut the curtains too. With the lighting much better, he was able to see more - like the copy of Pollyanna on the dresser by the bedside. He’d wondered where that had gone… Not only that, but on the back wall, there were a pair of doors he hadn’t noticed before, and a large map of Macclesfield Forest hung between them. Was that where he was?

Sure enough, there was a pin holding a scrap of paper with the word _Home_ written on it somewhere in the forest depicted. There were also pins holding trails of string out from this central pin, marking paths to places Grandad had labelled for various uses. Some, like Trentabank and Ridgegate, were places to find water. Others seemed to mark places he’d found edible plants, or seen interesting animals.

One of the books he’d seen on the coffee table had been about recognising edible plants, he realised - that would probably come in useful. He wasn’t sure how he felt about setting traps, but he spotted a book about that on top of one about fishing and preparing fish when he glanced back. It looked as though Grandad had been serious about becoming self-sufficient.

Opening one of the doors, David had to turn on another hanging lantern to see what was inside. _Food._ Within this apparent pantry, there were shelves of canned foods, jars of honey, baking soda, salt, tubs of nuts, bottles of water and more. It looked as though foraging wasn’t actually going to be a problem for a while. There was a fishing pole and net there as well, as yet unused, and what appeared to be a first aid kit. Not far away, he found a cardboard box with the words ‘water filters’ scrawled upon it.

Upon investigation, the other door opened into a tiled room containing a toilet, several buckets, shelves of toilet roll, soap and hand sanitiser, and what looked like a drain in the floor. The toilet had no water in it, nor any way to flush it, but when he dropped a stray twig that had ended up in his hair into it, the twig vanished as soon as it hit the bottom. Some kind of vanishing magic to avoid having to install plumbing, probably. Maybe the drain in the floor was the same? That was probably for washing himself.

There was a towel rail, but no towels in sight. Sure enough, when he drew nearer, there was another taped note reminding Grandad to get some in or transfigure them from something. Well, he could probably handle finding towels, right? He’d need to bring his toiletries over anyway, if he wanted to be able to brush his teeth. A hairbrush would be good, too…

This was really happening, wasn’t it? It wasn’t like the times he’d fantasised that he had somewhere else to go, or that camping with Grandad didn’t have to end - there was so much more mundane detail than his imagination had supplied, and it _felt_ real. He sniffed, wiping his eyes. It was time to get his things.

If speaking _one_ of the words written on the compass had brought him to his new home, did that mean the other would return him to his parents’ house? A quiver of nervousness ran down his spine - what if he couldn’t get back to the cabin? He couldn’t _not_ go back, though - his guitar was there. That, and he didn’t fancy walking to school from the forest in the morning.

If he could just… hop quickly between places, he wouldn’t have to spend much time at all in his parents’ house, and nobody would come looking for him for not going to school. That, and if his guitar was _here,_ nobody could take it from him. With renewed determination, he reached into his pouch for the compass and grasped it tightly. “Ingrates.”

This time, while the process was still deeply unpleasant, David at least had a bed to fall on. Not his own, but what had once been his Grandad’s. Soon, it would just be the guest bed. That gave him another idea - as soon as his head had stopped spinning, anyway. Now that he knew he had a hiding place nobody could find, he began to stuff his pockets with keepsakes, any little thing of his Grandad’s he could find that hadn’t yet been removed. Then, once he had everything he could find and carry, he snuck carefully out of the room. He had to move slowly, closing the door with utmost care - he wasn’t supposed to be going in there, after all. Then, glad his socks were quiet against the carpet, he slipped back into his own room.

Grinning giddily, he piled his finds onto his bed and started fishing out his own things. He didn’t have much, but it still looked as though he wouldn’t be able to fit everything into his pockets - not if he wanted to bring his clothes with him. Grabbing his school bag, he began stuffing as much as he could into it. Then, all that remained was to brush his teeth and gather his toiletries and a towel.

He moved as quickly as he could without banging into anything - he couldn’t afford to be caught, not when he was this close, and certainly not when he could hear another argument starting upstairs. Something about bills, this time, from what he could make out. At least it wasn’t about him or the Spinkses this time.

Once he had everything in hand, guitar and all, David released a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. Sure, he’d still have to return in the morning, but for now, he could finally enjoy some peace and quiet of his own. “It’s time to go home.”


End file.
